As Soon As It Stops
by AmethystWren
Summary: He wants to learn of his father, but there's more to it than Reef first suspects. There's two sides to every story, and the story of Finnick Odair is no exception. Annie's take will be very different to Tullia's, down the road. But, when it comes down to it, can they both be trusted? Who was Finnick- sweet and charming, or nothing more than simply gorgeous? Finnie
1. Chapter 1

**This might not seem too exciting, but I have to set the scene. This is Annie's life now. In ****_my_**** mind, at least.**

**For the record, I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update this. I have ****_Running_**** to think about in the HG archive, as well as ****_Brynn's Diary_**** and my silly story in Neopets. But I'll try not to leave it too long between updates.**

**Disclaimer- I do not own the Hunger Games, or any characters and situations you recognise from it- credits for those go to Suzanne Collins. As well as that, inspiration for the title came from the song We Belong to the Sea by Aqua. Again, I do not own that.**

* * *

Annie smiles to herself as she stands by the window, the majority of her body hidden by the curtain so that only the top of her head, her green eyes and the bridge of her nose are visible from the other side. Her son is now fourteen. And even if he has his mother's dark brown hair, which insists, like hers, on growing wild and unruly, Reef is certainly his father's son.

"That," She whispers, smiling slightly. "Is _your_ fault."

She hears a chuckle, but whether it's her husband in heaven or her son on the beach, Annie can't be sure. Her eyes wander across the shoreline until they fix on her son again. He's chasing Melina up and down the beach. Melina is a _friend_, as the two teenagers insist adamantly whenever questioned, but Annie's almost certain it'll be something more before it ever becomes something less. _If_ it ever becomes anything less, that is.

Reef catches up to her and pokes her shoulder, says something Annie doesn't catch. Mel lets out a visible groan and turns to chase the young Odair, who's already running away. _Tag_, Annie thinks. _They're playing Tag_.

She smiles as Mel shouts something at Reef, inaudible through the glass. The boy slows his pace until he isn't running, merely going through the actions in slow-motion. Their laughter as Mel catches up to him is loud enough to come through the glass, and it makes Annie smile. It reminds her of her own younger days. Before the innocence of her childhood was ripped away from her with such brutal force it hurts to think about it.

She leaves the window reluctantly, knowing that soon her son will come bursting in through that front door any minute, eager to eat his dinner right there, right then. Whether or not he'll bring Mel with him, Annie doesn't know. She wouldn't be surprised if he does.

She stands in the middle of the kitchen for a moment, thinking about what she should do. She wants something quick, something easy. Annie never really had much skill in the cookery department.

"Cheese sandwiches." She announces matter-of-factly to no-one in particular, walking the short distance across the blue-and-white checked floor to pull the fridge door open.

She's just arranging the last triangular sandwich on the plate when she hears the front door open.

"Mum!" Reef's voice rings out through the building. "Mel's staying for tea; is that okay?"

She tries, and fails, to conceal her smirk. She was right! "Of course."

"Thanks, Mrs. O." Mel shouts in a way that makes Annie's ears hurt. Melina always was a loud, _loud_ child. The daughter of a Capitol fashionista and a District 4 fisherman, brought together after the War had ended, Mel couldn't be anything _but_ loud.

Annie picks the plate full of sandwiches up and carries it into the living room. Reef, as expected, is sprawled out across the entire length of the sofa, that cocky grin so much like his father's plastered across his face. Mel is perched at the end of the sofa, by Reef's feet. She looks like she might fall off if given any less room than the small amount she has.

"Thank you, Mrs. O." The loud blonde says brightly, jumping up from her place on the sofa and lunging for the sandwiches. Annie takes a small triangular sandwich herself, before they're all gone, and heads back toward the window. She tries to imagine, not for the first time, what life would be like with Finnick still alive. Infinitely better, she's sure.

He'd have been the one to teach Reef to swim; not Katniss on her rare little visits. He'd tease their son half-heartedly about Melina every chance he got, and laugh when Reef went to retort back. He'd sneak up behind her when she looked out of the window, just like she's doing now, and-

"Mum,"

Annie looks over her shoulder, finds her son's head poking up over the sofa back.

"I asked you a question." His tone isn't mean; he's grown up with his ;insane' mother, after all. He knows that sometimes she zones out from the world, sometimes she isn't there at all even if she's standing not three metres away.

"Sorry." She apologises, smiling at her son sympathetically. He shouldn't have to deal with this. "I was just thinking about Finn."

"You mean dad?" Reef presses. Annie nods, mentally berating her own habit of asking questions; it'd clearly been passed down to her son, and had gotten her into a lot of situations she'd rather avoid regarding the Games, the War, the Capitol. A lot of which she'd managed to bluff her way out of, but he was reaching the age now where 'I'll tell you when you're older' didn't quite cut it anymore.

"My mum _never_ answers my questions about the legendary Finnick Odair." Mel grumbles. "She says it's 'inappropriate', even though he was my best friend's dad."

Annie feels her hands tighten into fists. "Those who say it's 'inappropriate' didn't know him." She says, far more icily than she intended. The raised-eyebrow look her son gives her makes Annie regret her choice of words and tone even more than she already did.

"It's okay, Mels," Reef looks at the blonde girl, who's still standing by the sandwich plate. "Not many people know the full story. Myself included."

He looks at his mother, who immediately feels guilty. He has a point; she avoids answering questions about Finnick, if she can help it. The memories that come with it are often too much to bear, and she doesn't want to break down in front of her son. He deserves better than that, too.

"There's a first time for everything." Mel points out, adding hastily, "If you're up to it."

Annie holds back her sigh as she strides purposefully round the sofa. She picks up her son's ankles, sits down in the place where they'd been, and lowers them down just next to her lap. Reef quickly pulls them back against himself and Mel hurriedly sits down in the gap between mother and son.

"It's time." The woman says firmly, staring at her knees, at the checked fabric of her red-and-white dress. "He'd rather I told you. I know it."

"Then tell us." Mel says, in a voice uncharacteristically quiet for her. So much so that Reef's eyes widen in disbelief. He shakes his head, removing any surprise from his mind, and settles his sea-green eyes on his mother.

Annie's own eyes stay fixated on her knees. It's the only place she could bare to look right now. Mel, despite living in District 4 all her life, is very much like her mother; loud, oddly pretty, and a frequent wearer of very bright make-up. And this moment in time, it's bright red lipstick and _very_ green eye-shadow. And that's watered down; her father's influence means she isn't so crazily addicted to colour as her mother is.

And then there's Reef, who needs no explanation. Looking at him is like looking at his father, only it isn't. And whilst Reef is a blessing himself, he's also a curse. He's just too much like Finnick.

"Where should I start?" Annie asks weakly, unsure herself who exactly she's addressing.

"The beginning." Reef answers thoughtfully. "When did you meet him first?"

Annie smiles to herself, to her knee. "He was always there. I can't remember ever _not_ knowing him."

"When did you first _talk_ to him, then?" Mel pressed.

Annie thinks for a moment. "Look, it'll be easier if I go further back. To a boy called Coby. He was my cousin."

"What's he got to do with-" Mel begins, but she's interrupted by a sharp nudge in the side from Reef's foot.

"Everything." Annie answers distantly. "It has everything to do with Finn."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you, thank you, thank you! I honestly wasn't expecting such fantastic feedback so quickly! Thank you!**

**In this chapter, I'm experimenting with a way of setting it out. Line breaks tend to mean time changes- so from Annie telling the story to Reef, Melina and Annie sitting in her living room. If it's confusing, could you please let me know?**

* * *

Like I said, Coby was my cousin. He had my sort of hair- dark, wild and unruly- and the soft blue eyes that came from his father's side of the family.

Besides him, I had only one other cousin; Coby's sister. Her name was Samantha, and she looked nothing like me at all. She had straight red-blonde hair instead, and my Uncle Jacob's crystal blue eyes. Coby was only one year older than me, as opposed to Sam's three years, and the two of us were far closer than I ever was with her. Still, Sam was like a big sister to the both of us, advising us and helping us, even if she pretended she didn't care at all.

Now, Melina, I'm not sure how much your parents have told you about the Reaping, but Reef knows what I'm talking about.

* * *

"My mum said it was a glorious time." Melina explains all she knows about the Reaping. "She said that the only _real_ way people from the Districts could ever hope to be famous was to win the Hunger Games. And the only way to win the Hunger Games was to enter them, which meant your name had to be pulled from a big glass bowl containing all the names of all the children from twelve to eighteen. Am I right or am I right?"

"You're right." Annie says slowly. "For the most part."

"What part am I _not_ right on?" The teenager asks suspiciously.

"It wasn't glorious at all." Annie says quietly, almost as though she's afraid she'll be caught and tried for treason, even fourteen years after that threat was banished like the president who endorsed it so keenly. "It was the most terrifying thing a kid would ever face."

Melina lets out a small 'huff' noise and Reef rolls his sea-green eyes at her.

* * *

Our story starts at my first Reaping. I was twelve years old, and terrified that it would be me.

"The odds are certainly in your favour, Annie." My mum assured me as she brushed my hair that morning, tied it back in a fishtail braid for me. "There's only one slip."

"I know." I whispered. "But… There's still a chance. And what about Coby? He has three slips, right?"

Mum shakes her head. "It won't be Coby, either. If you don't think about the bad things, they won't happen."

It was a saying of hers; if you think happy thoughts, happy things will happen to you. I closed my eyes as she finished securing my hair back and thought of swimming in the sea, of lying on the beach and letting the sun dry me. Happy thoughts.

Aunt Beryl brought Samantha and Coby round that morning. I laughed at his stiff suit, and he joked about my knee-length green dress. Sam rolled her eyes and followed our mothers into the kitchen to discuss boring grown-up things.

"How do you do it?" I asked Coby as we sat in my living room together. "How do you survive the Reaping?"

He thought for a moment before replying. "Last year, I crossed my fingers on both hands, and I tried to cross my toes too. And that's supposed to be lucky, crossing things like that. So I guess that's what helped."

Aunt Beryl and Mum walked the three of us there and left us at the square with a hug and a wet, embarrassing kiss on our cheeks.

"I have to go now." Coby explained to me sadly. "The boys go in at a different place."

I threw my arms around him, hugged him close. Eventually, he managed to pry me off of him and dash off to join the boys' line. I looked around, found Sam, and hurried after her. She looked down at me with a small smile, so small that it was barely there. By some sort of unspoken agreement, I knew that she meant I could stick with her for the moment.

After signing in, Sam pointed me in the direction of the twelve year old area.

"I'll meet you after this, okay?" She told me. "Just wait in your bit, I'll come and get you. I promise I won't forget."

"Okay." I nodded and pushed through the crowd toward the twelve year old section.

District 4's escort back then was called Julia. She looked like she'd tied her flossy pink hair back with a piece of fishing net that year, and two dangly plastic goldfish hung from her earlobes.

She recited her speeches, showed us the video, gave way for Mayor Johnson's own annual speech. And then she was heading for the girls' Reaping bowl. I crossed my fingers, crossed my toes, even crossed my legs.

"Samantha Seymour."

I had to tighten my muscles as I watched her take the stage. Her red-blonde hair shone copper as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud, like it personally wanted to watch her shine. Her hands were shaking, but she didn't cry. She just took her place beside Julia and looked at her feet.

Julia asked for volunteers, and I prayed that one of the girls from the Career training academy would take her place. No-one did.

Our escort shuffled toward the boys' bowl and pulled out a slip of paper right at the bottom. Her shoes clacked as she headed back to the microphone and unfurled it, reading the name aloud.

"Finnick Odair."

The boy who strode up the steps was one I knew to say 'hello' to in the market place, but nothing else. He was biting his bottom lip, but I wasn't sure whether it was to keep him from laughing or crying. Julia asked for volunteers. Again, nothing.

Taking a step backward, she asked Sam and Finnick to shake hands and ushered them both away. Mayor Johnson told the crowd they could disperse, and it did.

But I stayed rooted to the spot. I couldn't move. Sam said she'd come and get me. She was supposed to come and get me. And, even if I'd just watched her walk into the Justice Building with trembling hands, she had to come and get me. She promised.

"Ann," I looked around, found Coby standing beside me. "I'm going to go see Sam, do you wanna come?"

I nodded. He held out a hand and I took it without hesitation. Together, we mounted the stairs to the stage and entered the Justice Building.

Aunt Beryl, Uncle Jacob, Mum and Dad where already waiting in line. They were admitted just as we were approaching, meaning Coby and I would have to enter just us two.

Three minutes later, the adults emerged with puffy red eyes. Uncle Jacob had his arm round Aunt Beryl, and she had her face buried in his shoulder. The peacekeeper at the door gave me and Coby a nod and we shuffled in.

I released my grip on his hand as my cousin hurled himself at his older sister. She wrapped her arms round him so tightly I thought she might break him before opening her eyes and looking at me pointedly. I threw myself at them. She removed one of her arms from around Coby only to wrap it around my shoulders.

We stayed like this, a big huddle, for a while before Sam pulled away. Coby and I took a step away from her.

"Don't give up on me." She told us. Her voice shook, and it wasn't right. Sam was one of the most confident people I knew, always so sure of everything. "I'm older than Finnick, at least. And taller."

I smiled, despite the fact that tears were burning against the backs of my eyes.

"I wouldn't dream of it, sis." Coby assured her.

She looked like she might say something, but instead just wrapped her arms round her only cousin and her little brother, held us so tightly, as though she was afraid of letting us go. She probably was.

"I forgot to cross my fingers." She whispered into the tops of our heads.

When the peacekeepers came, she didn't let go of us. They had to pry her fingers off of our shoulders, drag us out of her grip. I had scratch marks down my arms once we were out of the room where she'd tried so hard to keep her hold on me. Coby, due to his long sleeves, didn't have scratches, but I'm certain his arms were sore.

Sam's hysterical crying was clear even from behind the closed door. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done to walk away from her, not look back. But I did.


	3. Chapter 3

For once, we were anxious for the coverage of the Games to start. We were itching to see the Opening Parade. Because, if we saw Samantha, it'd mean she was still alive. Aside from recaps of the Reaping- which we'd all been there to experience- we'd seen nothing else of the year's tributes. We wanted to make sure Sam was okay.

Coby and I were sitting right in front of the television at his house. Mum, Dad, Uncle Jacob and Aunt Beryl sat on the sofa behind us. Auntie Beryl was gripping Uncle Jacob's hand so tightly that her whole arm shook under the strain, but he didn't appear too fussed by it.

Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith began to talk about how the Tributes that year were 'sure to be the best yet'. But, then again, they used to say that every year.

District 1's cart pulled out. The Capitol crowds ooh-ed and aah-ed as the two presenters commentated about the stylist's choices, and how it represented the District- which supplied luxury goods to the Capitol- perfectly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Coby muttered. "Cut to Sam already!"

I have to say, I silently agreed with him.

District 2, District 3, and then, _finally_, it was 4. I glanced over my shoulder. Auntie Beryl's arm was still quivering with the intense force of which she was gripping her husband's hand. All four adults were leaning forward slightly.

I turned back to face the TV.

I remember that my oldest cousin looked very nervous. Her hands were clasped in front of her, wringing each-other out. I doubt the Capitol citizens watching noticed, but I did. I was paying special attention to Samantha, after all.

Her strawberry blonde hair was loose and flew behind the chariot in a glossy, untangled banner. Rather than the face I was used to- with its hint of a blush and its odd faint freckle- was a tanned, flawless picture of a woman, painted with make-up until every impurity was as though it had never existed.

Her dress itself was glittery and blue; I'm guessing it was an attempt at something which resembled the sea, made by someone who's never actually seen it. This, like her hair, was baggy on purpose and flowed out behind the cart as it sped forward.

She was beautiful. Truly divine. But, besides the people in the room with me, I doubt anyone was paying attention to her at all.

No, all attention was focussed on the fourteen year old boy beside her. He was wearing a pair of golden swimming trunks, a dummy trident in his left hand. It was almost crazy; amongt the few things I knew of the Odair boy back then, there was the fact that he was unmatched when it came to fishing with a trident. Coby and I saw him on the beach once or twice, and he was so quick... It was like a blur...

Anyway, he smiled and waved with his right hand, gripped the trident with his left, and lapped up the applause whilst his District partner stood beside him, biting her lip and looking like she'd rather be _anywhere_ else.

Even the commentary focused on Finnick Odair, with his bronzed skin and perfect smile. They said _one_ thing about Samantha; just one. "She looks like she has stage fright, doesn't she?"

* * *

"On a scale of one to ten," Mel says to Annie thoughtfully, "How hot was Finnick that day?"

Reef opens his mouth, and is about to scold her for asking such a rude question, but his mother answers before he has chance to in a slow, careful voice, the sort that always reminded the boy of going to touch a china ornament; soft, gentle and slow, like you're afraid you'll break something. Unfortunately, the only thing left that his mother _could_ break was herself.

"I wasn't paying him much attention at the time." She answers truthfully. "I was much more focused on Samantha."

"But surely there were reruns?" Mel presses.

Annie looks at her lap and smiles to herself, but doesn't answer.

"Shouldn't you be getting home, now?" Reef asks Mel suddenly, casting an anxious glance at his mother and hoping frantically that she isn't relieving some terrible memory.

"It can't be _that_ late." The loud blonde protests. "Besides, Mum doesn't really mind, so long as I'm back by nine. It's _definitely_ not nine; it's light outside!"

"Summer, eh?" Reef shakes his head and swivels round, setting his feet down on the carpet and standing up. He turns and holds a hand out for his best friend. "Shall I escort you home, Miss Caron?"

"Oh, if you insist, Mr. Odair." She places her hand in his and allows him to pull her to her feet.

He doesn't let go of her hand as they walk round the sofa, heading for the front door. He pulls it open and the two best friends step out onto the doorstep. Reef turns to pull it shut behind them before taking Mel down their short garden path, through the little white gate, and down the road to her house.

Meanwhile, inside the Odair residence, Annie still sits on the sofa. Her blue eyes are fixed on her knees, the way the fabric of her dress crinkles slightly. She examines it with such scrutiny that she can make out the individual threads, contributing to each red square, each white square.

She's only dimly aware that Reef has gone, left to walk Melina home. It doesn't surprise her in the slightest; he does it most days, anyway.

A smile graces her face as her mind turns to thoughts of her late husband. He's watching over Reef; she knows it. His own personal guardian angel. She wishes they'd met. Finnick would adore him, he really would. He'd have made such an excellent father, if only he hadn't been wrenched away from her.

Before her mind can leap to thoughts of mutts ripping him to shreds, she focuses herself on his green eyes. Green, green, green, _green_. She has yet to see anything so beautiful, she decides. They remind her of little shards of sea glass; shiny, clear, and pretty, with all of the roughness smoothed away.

"Eleven." She whispers to the empty house around her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this update's taken so long- The POV in this chapter was proving difficult to write in, but I was determined to pull through with it! It gives a different spin on the story of Finnick to Annie's one. I didn't want to make Tullia too similar to Delicia- the escort in _Running_ and _Falling _(my other two main _Hunger Games_ fics), so I had to keep re-doing bits and pieces.**

* * *

Tullia Caron is one of those women who kept their Capitol roots after the War. Whilst her opinions on how 'primitive' the District folk are changed after she married her fisherman husband, she still loves her Capitol-style fashions; bright, bold colours all the way.

The lack of Avoxes after the War was a struggle for her. Tullia had always had the silent servants to cook, clean, wash her clothes- everything! She _still_ can't cook very well. Dennis, her beloved husband, jokingly told her on the eve of their wedding that he'd only go through with it if she could make a decent sandwich. Luckily, she could manage that. Just about. Provided your standards of 'decent' were low.

Tullia is tapping her knee with her index finger impatiently as she sits on the plush leather sofa, awaiting her husband's arrival. She always thought the material she perches on is rather bland in colour- being so dull and brown and _boring_- but Dennis had insisted. And, whilst she'd never admit to it, the fisherman had the Capitol-born woman wrapped round his little finger.

The door flies open and Tullia subconsciously straightens up slightly, as though preparing to entertain the company of President Paylor herself.

"I'm home!" Her husband announced proudly.

She rolled her eyes. "Dennis, I'm in the living room!" 'Lounge' was not an appropriate word for one of her class. So she said.

"I'd come and hug you," Dennis shouts back from his place on the door mat. "But there's sand on my shoes! And my jacket's all soggy!"

"What?" Tullia shouts back. "_Froggy_? How did you manage _that_?"

Dennis laughs. Even once he's finished, the smile still seeps into his voice. "Soggy! You know, wet, dripping, _soaked_?"

"Oh." Tullia says lamely. The dialect of people here still catches her off guard, more than fourteen years after moving to this house beside the sea.

"Do you _want_ me to traipse the sand and sea all over your lovely carpet?" Her husband shouts, the grin still evident.

"_No_!" She screeches hastily. "Stay there!"

He laughs again, and, once more, his wife rolls her eyes. She opens her mouth to yell something at him, but is cut off when he screams "_Ow_!" at the very top of his lungs.

"What is it?" She calls anxiously.

"Ow." He grumbles again before yelling back. "It's alright, dear; our daughter just smacked me with a door!"

"Oh, belt up!" Tullia hears her daughter snort. The snicker that follows it blatantly belongs to her daughter's best friend, Reef Odair; son of the legendary Finnick Odair and that crazy little thing… Anna? Andy?

Melina and Reef push past the girl's father and into the living room, flopping down onto the beastly- though comfy- leather sofa beside Tullia, to her left.

"What have you two been up to?" She asks, looking at her daughter so as to avoid the sea green eyes of her best friend. They are very much his father's eyes and, considering she'd had such a massive crush on Finnick as a teenager, Tullia isn't ready to be reminded of this fact.

"Mrs. Odair was telling us about Finnick." Melina explains dismissively.

An icy hand grips Tullia's overprotective mother's heart. "Was she now?"

"Nothing bad!" Her daughter insists. "Just about his Games and stuff."

Tullia feels her face crack into a smile. Mrs. Odair is a nutcase- it's common knowledge. Surely, if _anyone_ these children have access knows about Finnick's Games, it is _her_. She watched them a hundred different times in her teenage years. A week.

"It's rather interesting, actually." Melina continues, oblivious to her mother's thought process. "I might have to go round again tomorrow, to hear some more."

"Don't bother _asking_ if you can come to my house." Reef grumbles, sarcasm heavy in his words. He cracks a grin, which is swiftly mirrored in her red-lipped smile.

Tullia claps her hands together so loudly that it causes both of the fourteen year olds to leap out of their skins. "_I_ can tell you about Finnick's Games!"

"Mum, I'm not sure-"

"Pish-posh!" She cuts her daughter off. "Now, where were you up to?"

"We'd just done the parade." Melina replies. "But Mum, Annie can-"

"_Hush_, dear!" Tullia cuts in again. "No-one cares about training scores, so that goes to… Oh, the interviews."

* * *

I remember the interviews that years very, _very_ well. For starters, the girl from 1… Glister, that year, wasn't it? She was _beautiful_. I wanted her interview dress _so_ badly; knee-length, covered in different coloured sparkles. And in the stage lights! Oh my goodness, it was like she was wearing a portable disco!

* * *

"What about _Finnick_, though?" Melina presses. "Annie was telling us about _him_; not some District 1 girl!"

"And Sam." Reef adds.

Tullia stares at him for a moment. "Who in the name of the President is 'Sam'?"

"The other tribute from 4?" Melina suggests pointedly.

Recognition dawns on Tullia's face. "Oh, the one who cried."

"What?" Her daughter's best friend asks. The Capitol-born woman is unsure if his tone sounds more angry or confused. She chooses to just ignore him.

* * *

So, Finnick. He, of course, looked gorgeous. But then, when _didn't_ he? His suit was this shimmering light blue colour, and it looked like rippling water underneath all the stage lights, and his bronze hair was slicked back, but midway through the interview it looked like he forgot because he ran his hand through it, only that just made him look even more handsome than before, and-

* * *

"Honey, calm _down_." Dennis suggests, taking the seat on the opposite side of his wife to the two fourteen year olds. "Besides, what did Odair have that I don't?"

Tullia huffs. "It's a well-known fact, Dennis, that Finnick Odair was simply _beautiful_."

"Maybe if I'd won the Hunger Games, I'd have been 'beautiful' too." The fisherman teases, nudging his wife with his shoulder. She rolls her eyes.

Melina cranes her neck to look around her mother. "Daddy, _I_ think you're wonderful just the way you are."

"Really?" His blue eyes light up at this compliment.

"Really." Melina confirms. "Now, _shut_ up."

"Well," Dennis stands up, folding his arms and feigning sadness. "I know when I'm not wanted." Making as much of a show of it as he can, the fisherman storms into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

Melina looks at Reef, suppressing a smile, which he returns in a way that reminds Tullia all too much of his father's. Oh, Odair's flirtatious smile.

* * *

Caesar Flickerman… You _do_ know who he is, right? Good, good. He had a talk show, on every Saturday night, with celebrity guests. And when the Hunger Games rolled around, he was given the prestigious job of interviewing the tributes.

Anyway, he asked Finnick all the usual questions; 'How do you like the Capitol', 'Do you have any strategies'- I _could_ tell you Finnick's answers, but I doubt you'd find them very interesting. Uh- _no_ complaints, Melina!

After all the _boring_ questions, though, he asked that all-important question: "Have you got a girl back home?"

"Nope." Finnick Odair replied, looking directly into the camera and winking. _My_, it was enough to make a girl swoon! "I like to keep my, uh, options open."

The applause coming from the TV was truly deafening. And he just grinned that beautiful, _beautiful_ grin of his the whole way through.

* * *

"What about Sam?" Reef presses. "As much as I want to hear about my father, his District partner was clearly important to my mother."

"That does _not_ surprise me in the slightest." Tullia announced, nodding her head once to back up this point. "Birds of a feather flock together."

"Um, _what_?" Melina asks. "Does that have _anything_ to do with this situation?"

"Absolutely everything, Melina, dear." Her mother waved her hand dismissively. "Now, I'm sure I can remember a _little_ about the Girl who Cried."

* * *

Her dress was made from the same sort of material as Finnick's suit, I remember that. And her hair was in a long, swishy ponytail, high on the crown of her head, tied with that _same_ shimmering blue fabric. It wasn't a patch on Glister's gown; now _that_ was a dress to be proud of! But it would do as far as interview dresses went, I suppose.

Caesar Flickerman, the poor man, had a hard time getting her to talk; and getting tributes to spill their thoughts was his talent! She mostly gave one words answers, and she even mumbled _those_. My, it was doing her no favours whatsoever!

And then he asked her about her family. There was some brother, and some sister, or something. That's when she stopped mumbling, her last question of all, when she practically yelled by comparison "I'll do anything to protect them- _anything_!"

* * *

"It's all a little upsetting, really." Tullia concludes, shaking her head.

Reef bites back a sarcastic response along the lines of 'no, really? Who'd have thought kids fighting to the death was _sad_?'

Melina, however, sees a little more depth to her mother's words than her best friend cares to look into. "What's upsetting? The Hunger Games?"

"The circumstances that _poor_ family went through." The Capitol woman looks like she might cry.

Melina puts a hand on her shoulder, but no sooner has it got there is her mother jumping to her feet, a grin on her face, any traces of previous sadness gone completely.

"Let's go see what your father's up to!" She declares, tottering off towards the kitchen.

Her daughter turns to Reef and rolls her eyes before rising to follow her batty mother. Her best friend stays seated for a moment longer.

"I'm going home." He tells Mel, taking himself to the door. It seems that more investigation is needed, and he can't trust Tullia to give everything to him straight.


End file.
